Iniquitous
by Ikuko-chan
Summary: Sango, a sloppy, tomboyish university student, has her life turned upside down when the yakuza come to collect her father's debt.
1. Running

The steady sound of her rhythmic breathing filled her ears. _'One…two…three…four…'_ she counted in her mind, synchronizing her breathing with her steps. She kept the metronome in her mind fixed despite the strain she began to feel within her chest. A car cruised by, its headlights cleaving through the darkness of the road. The few streetlights that hung by the roadside dimly illuminated the footpath, acting more as a chain of beacons; waypoints for the occasional drunken salary man who was stumbling home in the early hours of morning. She fumbled at a button on her watch, lighting up the digitized screen, the numbers _'5:47'_ visible. _'Damn…barely halfway…'_ she cursed in her mind. There would be no inebriated salary men at this hour though. She felt her breathing slowly become more erratic as she began to lose control. The pain in her chest grew. She surrendered to her body's demands. _'Inhale every three steps…exhale every three steps…one…two…three…'_ she willed herself, trying to regain control. The change in breathing pace initially came as a shock to her anatomy, having been accustomed to the four step routine but eventually the transition transpired and the diaphragmatic motion resumed smoothly.

Sweat was exuding from every pore now, her skin-tight running singlet drenched in her own sweaty excretions. She could feel her usual high ponytail bobbing in time with the impact of her soles. Aside from the footsteps, her panting and the sound of distant traffic, the normally lively neighbourhood was dead silent. Few people were crazy enough to go for a run at five-thirty in the morning but this was her routine and she was dedicated. She could picture her friend, Kagome, still snoring away, blissfully asleep, blissfully unaware of what last night's consumed calories were doing to her now. Her cat _Buyo_ reflected what Sango feared she would become. At first, she was slightly resentful that Kagome could always keep her body slim, despite the inert lifestyle she seemed to have. Sango, taken aback by her own weight gain decided that jogging would perhaps be the best start for her; the thought of taking diet pills or joining weight loss programs never seemed to sit well with her. Admittedly, perhaps what she found most unappealing was the dent it would make in her wallet. But after awhile, she rediscovered that regular exercise _was_ the most wholesome and most fulfilling way for her to burn those excess calories. She even took up Japanese kick boxing, a sport similar to Muay Thai. As a result, she was far more athletic than most boys and also had the ability to kick their ass to boot. She knew this fact did not bode well with her childhood friend, Inuyasha. The silver-maned youth was cocky in every aspect, but it was not as though he was all talk. He was naturally gifted with a supreme athletic ability, and he was not about to let the girl he grew up with beat him now.

"Hehe! Is this as far as you got in that time?" the cocky voice came from behind. "I thought you said I would be the one who needed the five minute handicap!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she responded without missing a breath. _'He already caught up!?'_ she thought.

They had once shared an intense rivalry as kids, constantly competing, constantly bickering. While Sango always excelled in the classroom, Inuyasha usually excelled in the field. The struggle between the two only ended at the onset of puberty; Inuyasha being a male meant that he had the evolutionary upper hand in any physical contest. Sango meanwhile, despite retaining her intellectual supremacy, was not quite so satisfied, given her tomboy-ish nature. The temporary truce between the two ended when she decided to train again, the threat to Inuyasha's dominance on the track enough to reignite tensions. He knew if she truly wanted to beat him, she could eventually do so. It was only a matter of time if he relaxed.

"Five kilometres in twenty minutes is nothing to me you know," he taunted again. "This is like a walk in the park for me-" he felt an elbow jab into his side, and his foot tangled with her outstretched leg. He stumbled before flying head first into a stray post box. "Hey, that's not fair!" he yelled at Sango, his nose bleeding.

"I'll see you at the bridge! That is, if you even make it there!" Sango waved cheerfully at him, as he could do nothing but watch her slender frame disappear around the corner.

She couldn't help but smile. She knew he wouldn't be able to retaliate; he was too chivalrous. And despite legions of girls lusting after him, he never exploited this, unlike the lecherous playboy, Miroku, who was about as libertine as Inuyasha was loyal. His hands would often find themselves on the nearest effeminate curve, and despite the wails of protest from the girls, it was obvious to see the pleasure derived was mutual. That's not to say the _monk_, as he so liked to called himself, had no perks going for him for he too, was extremely attractive and intelligent. Even the tomboy Sango would blush whenever they made eye contact for she was a woman after all. Inuyasha however, despised the _monk_ and would frequently become irritated whenever she conversed with him. The envy that sprouted was not due to an underlying desire for her, but rather from a deep emotional bond he shared, and one that he was afraid to lose to another male. The dependency they had on each other rivalled that of love, but one that would be more closely described as a sibling form rather than romantic. Either way, he did not approve of their relationship. Desperate attempts to have the pair break up often failed, resulting in much misconstruing on her part and a jeopardized relationship between the two. Yet reason finally overcame her after the _monk_ slept with one girl too many and the agitated Inuyasha finally eased up.

Inuyasha's loyalty wasn't exactly faultless either though. The sheer attachment he had for any girl would refuse to die down, even after the two would split. Sango still wasn't entirely convinced that he would still be dating Kagome had it not been for her near flawless resemblance to former girlfriend, Kikyo. Even now, he would arrange the occasional rendezvous with her, still unable to let go somewhere. The hurt he caused Kagome was a natural byproduct. It was times like these that she would rebuke the silver-haired youth, so convinced he was that Kagome would _understand_. Was it not hypocritical of him to berate her about the philandering _monk_ yet behave in the same manner?

She fumbled at her wristwatch again. The digitized display glowed the digits _'6:13'_. A bridge lay up ahead. She had made it. She collapsed against the iron railing, panting hard, struggling to recover her breath. Her heart was racing, pushed to the limit by the constant strenuous exercise. _'Ten kilometres in forty minutes…'_ she thought. It was by no means a small achievement; she had averaged a speed of fifteen kilometres per hour. Even after all this time, she still found it hard to believe Inuyasha was capable of managing the same distance in a touch over thirty. _'I'll have to train harder,'_ she resolved.

She stared out at the black waterway below, which would eventually lead to Tokyo Bay. The effluent that was discharged by the local factories resulted in a polluted aquatic system and it did not smell quite so fresh. Even so, the tranquil sound of the flowing water did provide some peace against the backdrop of traffic. More cars were on the road now, most were blue-collar workers eager to beat the morning traffic or merely sacrifice themselves for their company. She sighed. University was sometimes stressful, but she could not even begin to contemplate what the average salary man felt. Slaving day in and day out for the same company every week was not the slightest bit appealing. She wanted to travel abroad and work in a freer landscape, perhaps America, Europe or Australia. She did not want to be restricted to the housewife lifestyle many Japanese women had to endure but at the same time, she did not perceive the work ethics of Japan as particularly attractive either.

She heard footsteps and turned to see who it was. A nonchalant Inuyasha strolled up, his white shirt now bloody but the bleeding of his nose had stopped. "This is nothing," he quickly pronounced, before she could say anything. She just smiled and turned back to the river, the glowing tip of the sun appearing just over the horizon. The indigo sky blended into a strip of tangerine, casting an urban silhouette of the town that stood across. This was always how it was between the two, with physical banter from her part as well. Any injury received usually did not bother him, for he always had had an unusual recovery rate. She still remembered the stunned doctors upon realizing how fast his broken arm had healed as a child. Within a month, he was already playing baseball, pitching and batting as though his arm had never been fractured.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she motioned to the sunrise.

"Keh! You see the same thing every morning!" he retorted.

"Yeah I know," she sighed. "Still manages to take your breath away though, doesn't it?"

He didn't respond.

'_Stubborn…'_ she thought.

They stood in silence for awhile, Inuyasha leaning back against the rails, his hands resting behind his head. Sango continued to watch the sun continue its majestic path to the centre point of the sky. To watch its radiance develop was what made her wake up so early in the morning. The tingling she felt from the warmth of its rays was also worth it. After all, one had to enjoy the little things to truly enjoy life.

Her digital watch suddenly started beeping. She stood up, wishing she could linger a little longer.

"Race ya back, Sango!" Inuyasha teased, taking off, already knowing who would win.

She didn't care; her competitive streak was back. "You're on!" she called, following after him.

* * *

The red-faced pair were panting hard by the time they reached her place. It was seven-fifteen now; the trip back was always the more challenging. Part of it was due to the fact that they already had expended a lot of energy during the initial run, but the sun's warm rays had by now begun to permeate the cold of the morning which only compounded the stress to their bodies. _'Stairs…stairs…so many stairs!'_ the silver-haired youth griped in his mind. He wouldn't give Sango the pleasure knowing he too, was exhausted. They had once used the elevator but the combined stench of their sweat made it unbearable. The air inside had become thick and humid, and he couldn't imagine what it would have been like for the little old lady who stepped on at the fourth floor. It had been awkward enough for them already; they wouldn't try it again.

The number six appeared as they rounded the last flight of stairs and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Come on, wench," he taunted at the figure one flight below. She glared up at him. He grinned. He knew she hated that word. It was the one thing she couldn't stand. She didn't liken herself to other regular girls and gender-specific insults would only serve to exemplify the difference between the two. And the worst part was that there wasn't a particular word she could think up that could demean men in an equal manner.

"Damn it, Inuyasha, you know I hate that word," she complained, punching him on the arm.

"Ow!" he yelped. A blow from her fist usually meant a bruise would appear; such was the strength of her punch. It wasn't odd for it to remain for the rest of the week, even for Inuyasha.

"You say that again, and you can walk to the station alone!" She hit him one more time for good measure.

"Ok, I got it…" he lied. _'…wench,'_ he finished in his mind. He smirked.

She just sighed, shaking her head at the hopeless silver-haired boy. But it was the same playful arrogance that made him somehow so charming. Life would be dull without his sass. She unlocked the door to her family's apartment.

"'Morning, sis," her brother piped up. He was at the table eating breakfast, eyes fixated on the TV.

"Morning, Kohaku," she responded. _'He's too addicted to that TV…'_ she griped in her mind like a parent would.

"Sup, Kohaku," Inuyasha greeted, ruffling his hair. He stole a sip from his glass of milk.

"Hey Inuyash- hey! Don't do that!" the youth cried out. "Oh my God, now it has sweat in it…" he stared dejectedly at the now half-filled glass.

"Don't curse," Sango said sternly, taking a slice of buttered toast off his plate.

"A little extra sodium never hurt anyone," Inuyasha winked as he followed Sango to her room.

She opened the door. _'What the…'_ ran through his mind. He should have been accustomed to the scene already. Mayhem didn't come close to describing what he saw. _'More like a perennial disaster zone…'_ he mused. Sango's room was, by a long shot, the messiest room he had ever come across. He was incredulous at first to the thought that females were neat; he had never sensed that in Sango's abode. Still, she seemed to make an art of making a mess for each time he visited, the room was in a new tumultuous state of affairs.

"I'm going to shower first," she said, grabbing at some clothes that sat on her bed, before leaving the room.

'_Isn't that dirty laundry in her hands?'_ he thought, alarmed. He decided to act cool. "Okay."

Even his room was never this bad. During exam times perhaps, his room would be strewn with crumpled paper, broken pencils and erasure dust. But he never failed to tidy away his clothes or empty his bin. Here, it seemed as though mess was in a perpetual state of motion; here, mess could come _alive._ He could come in one day and find her clothes neatly stacked on her desk only to find it spread across the floor of her room the next. It was a dizzying sight, even for the most accustomed to dilapidation.

Amidst the stream of papers that lay on her desk were several framed photos, one of which had the pair as kids and another taken of them together from the year before. He smiled at the first photo, which had her kissing him on the cheek. He had flushed a bright red, desperately trying to look cool, as though he didn't want it. _'I look like such a brat,'_ he smiled. He was eight at the time. _'Since Sango is about a year younger, she would've been about seven?'_ he calculated. He never bothered memorising the precise difference between their ages, always rounding the nine or ten months difference up to a year. The other photo had her wrapping her arms around his neck, cheek pressed against his; a sign of affection. The ubiquitous, slanted peace sign he held and the cool smile he presented was all that gave away the joy he felt. They were in Australia at the time, on the beaches of the Gold Coast. Its pristine sands were matched by few in Japan, and the clear waters amazing.

He looked around. There wasn't a handbag to be found. _'Impractical, annoying,_' he could hear her voice say, when he asked why she never used one. A worn messenger bag was the closest thing he could find, practical for uni but pretty useless for anything else.

"Hey sis, Inuyasha drank from that," he heard Kohaku warn, as he saw Sango go for the same glass he had drunk from earlier.

"Mmhh," she shrugged, downing the remaining liquid. Kohaku turned away, disgusted as he poured himself another glass.

He smiled. Her personality at home completely contrasted against the façade she presented at uni. On campus, she was extremely dignified, nearly a Goddess of sorts. But at home, she was a complete slob. Even now, he could see she hadn't bothered putting on her jeans, with only the hem of her T-shirt barely covering her panties. The jeans were hung across a shoulder with her towel still draped across her head. _'If only those who hit on her could see her now…'_ he chuckled. In many ways, she really was just like a boy.

"Shower's free," she announced without looking at him as she dug into a pile of clothes. The hem of her T-shirt came up as she bent over, revealing her curved figure.

"Got it," he stood up quickly, taking his bag along with him. _'Sheesh, she's way too relaxed around me…'_ he thought. He headed towards the bathroom.

"Ah, Inuyasha!" a voice beamed. "How are you?"

"I'm good thanks, Mr Fukushima," he replied to the Sango's father. His bristly moustache and beard was always a source of amusement for Inuyasha. The corporate style haircut that completed his look seemed a little over the top for a man who ran an insect extermination business. "One day, this business will flourish and I will become an executive," he used to joke. Sadly, it had never really taken off as he had planned, with people preferring to live in more urban locations where many businesses and apartments had long established their own pest control services. The death of his wife did not help either. Rumours had even circulated that his business was laden with debt and he had turned to the yakuza for help. Inuyasha could see no hint of worry from the man though, and given their stable albeit strange life at home he had chosen to dismiss them as exactly what they were - rumours.

"Successfully wooed my daughter yet?" he cackled, nudging him in the ribs. "You know, I couldn't stand that Miroku punk she dated awhile ago."

Inuyasha sighed. He had heard this 'joke' for so long, he could no longer tell if the man was serious or not. _'Damn, he's a tough one to read!'_

"Anyway, I need to go now. Come over for dinner sometime!" He donned a cap that had the kanji for _taiji-ya_ written in a styled font.

"Sure thing," Inuyasha replied.

He saw Sango come back out of her room as she went to give her dad a kiss goodbye.

"Put some pants on can't you?" he heard the man complain as Inuyasha entered the bathroom. Her father was well accustomed to his daughter's sloppy habits. "We have a guest here…" Inuyasha shut the door.

* * *

"Sister, Mr Fukushima has arrived," a man spoke, his skin adorned with tattoos. The tips of several fingers were missing, a tell-tale sign of his failures and allegiance to the yakuza. This particular _family_ however, was not so conventional. Most notorious for its deception and ruthlessness, it was feared by many other gangs even. They received protection money not only from the territory the clan controlled but by smaller yakuza families who had no desire to wage a war against them. Many a time this particular clan would covertly assassinate the head of smaller, rebellious gangs and continue until either the gang was eliminated or he could 'adopt' the now leaderless men. As such, his power and infamy grew, but it also bred hatred, resentment and most of all, fear, from the remaining yakuza families.

The crimson-eyed woman stared at the old garage, a makeshift headquarters for the exterminator business. Her darkly rouged lips curved into a smirk as she fanned the _hiogi_ in hand. The subordinate trembled at first before relaxing. He had seen her use the fan as a weapon before; eight impossibly thin blades were concealed within the ends of the fan, which she could cast with perfect precision. If there ever was such a thing as a beautiful weapon, this would be it. Her movements with the _hiogi_ epitomised grace, so enchanting it was that it could be considered as art. Her movement was as mesmerizing to watch as it was terrifying to face. She could choose whether she wanted to release one blade at a time or all eight simultaneously, such was her control over the fan.

"Collect the debt this afternoon. If he fails to repay us, take everything and finish him," she said coldly.

"Kagura," a voice said.

She turned. A young boy of fourteen years or so lay on a sofa, reading manga.

"Do not forget that the man has two children. Find them as well. We can use them."

'_Tsch, the balls this brat has!'_ she voiced in her mind. But she had orders to follow, and among those were to listen to this upstart.

"You heard him," she coolly delegated the task to the yakuza who still knelt before her.

He stood up and bowed before leaving. Her eyes were once again fixated on the old garage that stood across the road. Its dilapidated state suggested that business was not going well. Two employees went to greet their boss and inform him of any client orders. _'This is your last chance,'_ she warned telepathically.

* * *

"Sango." It was a girl's voice. It was a voice she knew.

"Sango," the voice came again as she felt herself get shaken.

"Huh, wha-?" a dazed Sango looked up. Students were already standing, packing away notes. Beside her sat a raven-haired girl. _'Kagome…'_

"You fell asleep again," the raven-haired girl said worriedly.

"Oh…" she yawned. Her eyes were still heavy. Thursday evenings were always hard to handle. She was always telling herself to take the morning off, postpone her morning jog for another day. But it was one of the few things she did consistently and found the pattern hard to break. The long hours of the day always took their toll on her.

"Hnnngghh!" She stretched her arms, trying to wake herself up. She looked out the window. The sun was beginning to set. "I'm so ready to go home and sleep," she said in between yawns.

"Definitely," her friend replied. She turned to the silver-haired boy who sat beside her, his head resting on his arms. "Hey, wake up, Inuyasha!" she gently nudged him.

"Mmmhh gimme five more…" he mumbled, brushing her off.

Her eyes flashed. The raven-haired girl was not amused. "Get up, Inuyasha!" she said threateningly, grabbing him by the ear.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!" he cried out. "I'm up! I'm up!"

Sango smiled. She knew how sensitive his ears were. The nerves had developed closer to the skin while he was in his mother's womb resulting in a highly sensitive weak point. A minor birth defect to be sure but a defect nonetheless. At least, that was how Inuyasha viewed it.

"Oh, Sango," Kagome beckoned. "We have another project due at the end of the semester."

Disappointment came across her face. "Another one?" she sighed.

The two girls studied architecture together at Tokyo University. An assiduous course, they oft found themselves staying up late drawing designs, constructing scale models or writing critiques. Inuyasha on the other hand, merely hung around because he had no class. He studied finance and economics instead, a subject which he was surprisingly good at. Listening to the lecturer drone on about Gaudi served no interest to him; he was just waiting for Kagome.

The trio quickly made their way off campus and into the busy streets of Tokyo. Traffic never seemed to cease at this time and with the large stream of pedestrians on either side of the road, they usually cut through Ueno Park. Various oden stalls had set up for the night, waiting for their regular customers who came to enjoy the view of Shinobazu Pond. Red lights from the stalls mingled with the white glow of streetlamps. The scream of a passing train could be heard against the sound of traffic. Ueno Station lay ahead.

"Aahh, I hope we can get a seat this time," Inuyasha whined. Peak hour meant that commuters were crammed into the trains like sardines in a can. The occasional pervert would also seem to find himself sharing the same carriage as the trio. He had once caught a hand that snaked its way to Kagome's behind. Grabbing the appendage, he almost snapped it off its wrist. The poor sop ran off at the next station hurling abuse at him. He didn't care; the next person would not be so lucky. Sango, who was also unfortunate enough to experience it, was not quite as hesitant as Inuyasha; she snapped two of the man's fingers without hesitation. The death glare she gave earned her a reputation amongst the regular commuters; a small circle almost always appeared around her from those who feared their accidental brushings would result in injury…or worse.

"Not like that's a worry of _yours_," Sango said enviously. She knew exactly what he was referring to.

"Keh! I bet you'd be the one who does the molesting!" he scoffed. "Those poor helpless men…" he shook his head mockingly.

Her eyes narrowed. She raised her notebook threateningly. "You just want me to feel _you_ up, right?"

"Tsch, like I'd wanna be felt up by you…" he spat, looking away.

"Aw, c'mon guys!" Kagome intervened. "You know, if you're so worried about us, Inuyasha, we can go on the female-only carriage instead..."

"Which means you'd be alone," Sango finished, smugly. Being a female still had its perks.

"Keh! Whatever you want then!" he pouted.

* * *

The last of the orange tinged sky finally disappeared. Street lights had flickered into life moments earlier, as the powerful black Mercedes cruised through the echelon of buildings, its V12 engine humming away. An icy blue light was projected from the xenon headlights, shielding the three-pronged badge from prying eyes. A figure with an aristocratic mien sat silent in the back, his hand curled calmly around the scabbard of a _katana_. Driving was his loyal servant, a poor soul that suffered severe burns when he was young, resulting in a hideous facial disfiguration. For that reason, he seldom ventured outside without a masquerade. He was grateful to have been taken in under the wing of the young man that sat in the backseat; an _influential_, nocturnal figure one could say. His foot pressed against the brake pedal for a familiar sea of red lay up ahead. His grip on the soft leather steering wheel tightened.

"What is the meaning of this, Jaken?" a cold voice came from the back, not in question, but requisitioning an answer.

"My apologies, my Lord," he replied with utmost respect. "I shall find another route."

The figure in the back did not respond.

Sweat perspired from the older driver's head. Silence from the young Lord usually meant antipathy and he had no intention of losing this young Lord's favour. Time and time again he felt his days with the Inutaisho family were numbered, yet the young Lord was always gracious, even if he never appeared so. But the driver was not one to count his chickens and hence was always dutiful about his tasks.

A car in the next lane began to move and he began to merge. Another car behind honked. He sounded his in return.

"Do not make a scene," the young Lord commanded. He enjoyed quietude; such was the taste of a man of utmost sophistication. A ruckus on the road was far from the serenity he sought.

"Forgive me, my Lord."

A green light appeared and traffic began to flow again. The Mercedes once again powered its way down the roads, like a black shark patrolling its waters. The seedier elements of Tokyo began to appear as it entered the run down, red light districts. Some homeless people were spread out across the sidewalks, a few sleeping, others huddled together. Yakuza oft frequented this area but it wasn't a concern for the young Lord; this was _his_ territory. But with authority came responsibility; it was his obligation to provide protection for the local business from which he harvested his income. Should a rival clan harass one of the local businesses, he would send in his men to ensure it did not happen again. Yet times have not been so good lately, with more frequent racketeering occurring along the fringes of his territory. _He_ would have to step in this time; _he_ would send a message.

The Mercedes came to a halt by the sidewalk. Several rival yakuza members could be seen hanging around outside a building, awaiting their comrades within. They looked up at the sleek automobile and grinned, admiring its mix of brutality and elegance.

"Jaken," he said.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Wait here."

He stepped out.

The leering gang members suddenly lost interest in the car; they were staring agape at the figure that stepped out. His silver hair flowed freely, contrasting against the deep black of his draping suit. Undertone garnet tattoos ran across the sides of his face like inverted whiskers, adding to the fearsome look. A tattoo of a crescent moon sat on his forehead. He stared at the men calmly, hand on the hilt, but he had no need to draw his _katana_. They froze; a mere stare already rendered them defeated. Sweat was perspiring from their every pore as they struggled to convince themselves who stood before them. _'Se…Sesshoumaru…!?'_

He said one word.

"Leave."

Terrified, they abandoned their fellow gang-members inside, unaware of his presence. They were fortunate. The malicious intent bore straight into their heart, and they knew he would not hesitate to kill. Legends were perpetuated by rival gangs, telling how entire gangs of yakuza had been extirpated by this one man. Conflicts with his subordinates were common, they were not afraid of the small fish. But whenever _he_ came out of hiding, few were fortunate enough to escape with their lives. The ruthless efficiency at which he despatched contending members was rivalled only by the head of the Onigumo clan. He was a supreme killer, one which even the police were too afraid to touch.

Jaken smirked to himself as he saw the poltroon scatter into the alleys. _'Be grateful, you scum.'_ He watched the graceful figure of Sesshoumaru disappear into the building. He waited. A gunshot came, followed by a series of screams. He saw the young Lord reappear. A flick of the sword; blood sprayed across the footpath. The car door automatically opened. The young Lord stepped in. There was a pause.

"Jaken," he broke the silence.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Have Totosai prepare me another suit. This one has blood on it."

They drove off.

* * *

She was running harder than she had ever run before. Reason had given way to panic, her breathing far from controlled. She could hear the footsteps coming from behind, in pursuit. They would not be a problem, she could easily outrun them. A car however, would be another matter altogether and unless she could get far enough away before it caught up…She slowed and cut through a children's playground. A car would not be able to follow her through there, and she knew it would have great difficulty navigating these streets. This meant she only had to lose those on foot.

Her scalp still burned from the way the faceless man had grabbed her ponytail. "We have your brother," he had breathed into her ear, his breath laced with the distinctive smell of cigarettes. Reacting instinctively, she stomped on his foot hard before jabbing her elbow deep into his face. She heard a crack and the man screamed in agony. Others had begun to appear from around the corner. She took off.

'_Why would they have my brother?'_ she thought. She did not get a good look at the man's face. Her elbow had blocked any distinctive details and in the aftermath of the blow, he covered his wound protectively. Blood had poured down from the broken nose. She couldn't think up any reason. She would have to get home first, and calm down. She turned into another road, hoping the disarray of the streets would confuse her pursuers. _'Kohaku, please be alright!'_ she prayed in her mind.

It seemed all too surreal though; she had only left Inuyasha and Kagome on the train moments earlier. How was it that in a space of less than five minutes, she would suddenly be pursued by a whole group of seemingly dangerous men? But perhaps that was what life was like for many others, remote laser guided bombs could crash through the roof any second while a family was busy preparing dinner…

A man suddenly appeared on the path in front of her. The streetlight above clearly illuminated his vibrantly coloured suit; the tips of demon and ogre tattoos could be seen adorned on his skin. There was no doubt about it; they were the yakuza. "There she is!" he yelled, informing his comrades. She started running again.

'_What could the yakuza possibly want with me? What could the yakuza possibly want with my family?'_

More and more of the gang-members seemed to appear from every shadow. An office worker was bowled over by the reckless crew. Suddenly, she saw her block of flats. She sprinted towards it. Cries of "Get her!" followed. She reached the silver elevator doors that stood boldly in the light. _'If I can make it in there…'_ She pressed the 'Up' button madly, repeatedly. The cries were getting closer. She looked up at the display. It read _'Lvl 2'_. "Come on, damn it!"

A hand grabbed her shoulder. She turned to see a fist came towards her, knocking her back against the elevator doors. She pushed against the door to increase her momentum and delivered a knee straight into his gut. The man bent over, winded and her elbow came crashing down on his back. "Hah!" she gave a guttural cry as her elbow made contact. She pushed him away as the elevator doors finally opened. She ran inside. "Close, damn it! Come on, close already!" she cursed, mashing at the 'Close Door' button. The mob drew closer every second. And then finally, the doors shut. She was secure, at least, for now. But she was still trembling. She could not stop the palpitations. _'Kohaku, please be ok…'_ she prayed in her mind.

She looked up at LED display above the door. _'Level Four…Level Five…Level Six…' _The doors opened. She dashed to her apartment door and opened it. The darkness welcomed her in. She slammed the door shut. "Dad! Kohaku!" she cried out, on the verge of tears. But there was no response. There was nobody home.


	2. Anathema

A light in the centre of the room clicked into life. She stared around at the empty flat. _'Is this the right one?'_ she wondered. Most of the furniture was missing; an odd chair lying around. She went to her room. Her mattress was still there along with all her notes but the desk, books and her computer had gone missing. Most of her cheap clothes were still strewn across her bedroom floor. "Dad? Kohaku?" she repeated, her voice softer this time. She ignored the tears that welled in her eyes. She went into Kohaku's room. His scent filled her nose instantly, but there was no sign of her younger brother. She left after taking a glance, it being in a similar state of disarray as her own. _'Ok, calm down…'_ she thought. _'There is a logical explanation to this…right?'_ But try as she might, she couldn't come up with a plausible scenario that allowed her to feel at ease.

She turned towards the kitchen, its cupboards stripped bare. She took the sole remaining mug and filled it with water. She took a sip. The cold drink was invigorating. She noticed her hands were trembling again. _'Stop it,'_ she willed herself. Her mobile phone was still in her pocket. She took it out, but she was confused and she was scared, and that made her hesitate as to who to call. '_The police?'_ What if it was just some elaborate prank? '_Inuyasha?'_ She would just end up worrying him. '_Kagome?' _What could she do? She would be worse than Inuyasha. _'Kohaku…Dad…'_ That felt about right. She would check to see if they were safe, first. Then she could decide on her next move. For all she knew, they may just have been burgled. The yakuza may have been just a coincidence; a case of mistaken identity. She knew it sounded too good but she felt herself get excited. _'Yes, please let that be all that happened!'_

She thumbed her way down the contact list of her phone, searching for her father's number. _'Dad…dad…dad…'_ her eyes scanned the digital register. _'Damn it,'_ she mentally cursed as she overshot, misdialling the next number. She pressed the red button and tried again. There was a dial tone. _'Pick it up!'_ she urged in her mind. The familiar ring played out over and over again until a female, automated voice answered, apologizing for something that was not her fault. Sango tried her father's work number with the same result. _'Stay calm, that's what Inuyasha would do.'_ It was funny how even in the midst of strife, she still found herself competing against her childhood friend. She could imagine Inuyasha taunting her in his typical manner and she felt herself become annoyed. Her eyes now scanned for Kohaku's name on the digital register; she pressed the green button without hesitation.

She recognized the ringtone immediately. It was coming from outside. _'Kohaku!'_ she thought, relieved as she ran for the door. "Kohaku!" she greeted expectantly as she threw the door open. Confusion and disappointment overcame her. A young boy, around Kohaku's age stood at the front door but that was as close as the resemblance got. His hair was as light as Kohaku's was dark. His porcelain skin gleamed a ghostly white, revealing none of the freckles that Kohaku had spotted across his face. The callous stare of his eyes contrasted against the warmth of Kohaku's; it made him appear much older, as though he knew things a boy of his age should not. A smirk appeared on his face sending a chill down her spine. She flinched. _'Who…is this boy?'_

"Ah, so you're Sango," he said with disdain, as though he were expecting more.

She put on a brave front. "What do you want? Why do you have my brother's phone?"

"There's no need to act stupid. Come with me." The young boy directed. He began to walk away.

She remained where she was, her eyes flashing angrily. "Don't get cocky with me, brat!" she warned.

"If you don't wish to comply, then I suppose I should at least let you know in advance what will happen to your brother."

She felt her phone vibrate. She ignored it.

"Go ahead, don't be afraid," the youth encouraged brazenly.

She drew her phone suspiciously and her eyes widened in fear.

"Now do you believe me? Come," he gestured with his finger.

Speechless and shocked, she obeyed; the image of Kohaku plastered across her mind. _'Why?'_ was all she could wonder. She stared at the young boy who arrogantly walked ahead. He did not need to look back; he had no fear of the woman. One word and he could have her brother killed in an instant. She would not do anything stupid. She helplessly followed the boy towards the elevator where two other yakuza awaited, holding the door. The boy signalled for them to escort her in. The boy followed after. Under the lights of the elevator, she noticed the boy's hair was bleached white instead of being natural. It was would have been similar to Inuyasha's had it not lacked his silvery glow.

"Who are you?" she asked. The boy chose to ignore her. The elevator doors opened. The yakuza who had pursued her earlier now lined up ostentatiously on either side, like toy soldiers. A black BMW 7 Series was sitting idle at the entrance where a woman stood, fanning herself with a _hiogi_.

"Tsch, so much work for one woman…pathetic," she said, disgusted.

A voice hissed "You'll pay for this, bitch," as Sango walked past. She turned and saw the blood-stained face of a demon stare back at her. He spat a red gob of saliva on the ground beside her. She continued walking.

The door of the BMW opened smoothly by itself. The interior light did not illuminate. "Get in," the boy commanded. She reluctantly entered the darkness of the vehicle. She saw the woman enter the passenger side. The door shut.

"Hey, where are you taking me?" Sango asked, tapping the Perspex screen that stood between.

The woman looked back, unamused.

"Where are you taking me?" she tried again.

The woman still did not answer. She saw her reach for button on the console and twist a knob. A sweet-smell began to fill the rear cabin. Her eyes began to droop. "Hey…" she mumbled before she fell unconscious.

* * *

Sango awoke to find herself on a plush leather couch. Warm, halogen lights gleamed from the roof, dazzling her. She shielded her eyes as she tried to adjust to the brightness, her head still slightly throbbing. _'Where am I?'_ she wondered. She looked around. A marble coffee table sat by the couch she laid on, on top of a Persian rug. Several bookshelves lined the walls, filled with everything from Britannica to Yosano Akiko. A richly textured mahogany desk stood in front of the only window of the room. A suave looking man sat behind the desk, writing studiously. He dipped a quill into a bottle of ink before scratching away at the paper again. He did not notice her wake up. She stared at the man. He was very calm, very collected. He seemed extremely sophisticated; far more than the average…well, what _it_ was she did not know but he certainly had a refined aura. His skin was unblemished, much like the porcelain skinned boy.

"Ummm…" she began. He did not reply. _'Didn't he hear me?'_ Sango wondered. She began to get the feeling she was being overlooked; she did not like it. "Hey!" she said more aggressively, snapping her fingers. She moved into a seated position, hoping the visual stimulus in tandem would grab his attention. The man continued to ignore her. She stood up. She was now really irritated. "Hey, you! What's with the shenanigan? Why are you ignoring me?" The man put down the quill. _'Well that's something…'_ Sango thought, relieved to see a response. He removed his glasses and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. He put his glasses back on. He began to write again. _'This…bastard…!'_ she thought, furious. She stormed towards the desk.

"Sit down," he calmly directed, without looking up.

She stopped, stunned. _'This voice…such authority…'_ she fell into a chair by the desk.

And for awhile, the scratching resumed. The snow white quill danced about as his right hand dictated its movement. Finally, he stopped.

"Hmm, well looks like we have a little dilemma here, Miss Fukushima." He leaned into the backrest of his high leather chair, looking straight at her for the first time.

"What are you talking about?"

He raised his hand for silence. "Your father, Mr Fukushima yes? You see, he borrowed…let's just say a rather _large_ sum of money from our _organization_."

Sango's eyes widened. _'Dad was actually…dealing with these guys?'_

"Judging from your expression, it seems you were unaware of your financial situation," he continued. "Unfortunately, your father was unable meet the repayment deadline, resulting in the possession of most of your belongings."

She nodded slowly, pretending to absorb it all.

"Perhaps more unfortunate is the fact that the total sum your father borrowed plus interest ended up exceeding the value of your combined assets, both business and personal. As a result, I was left with no choice but to requisition the services of you and your sibling in order to make up the difference."

"That 'large sum' you were referring to sounds like quite an arbitrary figure."

"Well I can most certainly assure you that five million yen is by no means an arbitrary figure."

"A child could come up with that number."

"A child? Why yes, a child most certainly could. But I think you are missing the point. The _collateral_ that we have acquired so far has failed to live up to its valuation."

"And that's why you kidnapped us?" she catechized.

"Well, naturally he refused to hand you two over to us, such a devoted father he was," he mocked. "So tradition dictated that we kill him."

A wave of deep nausea overcame her, as she grappled with the thought. _'This man killed…Dad…?'_ The voice of the man continued but she was no longer listening…she couldn't. _'Dad is…dead…?'_ she repeated in her mind, struggling to accept the fact. _'Impossible…'_ What possibly gave him the right? Who gave him the authority? Or…could this man possibly be _lying_?

"You're lying," she cut in, testing him.

The man sighed. "Perhaps this will serve as proof that I am not lying?" He held up his phone, a picture of her father on the screen. She found herself wishing it was all but a bluff, a cruel joke, but the photo he had in his hand, the way he spoke to her so casually; she found it difficult to believe he was lying. It was a weak attempt.

"You bastard…" she whispered, trembling. The carefree way he talked about killing her father, the way he treated him like trash; it was…_unforgivable_. She wouldn't forgive him. She would regain the honour of the father she loved. She slowly stood up. "You bastard!" she screamed, picking up and hurling the ink jar at the urbane man. He stood unfazed; she had missed by millimetres. The gut-wrenching hatred she felt for the blasé man that stood before her unleashed the demon that resided within. With wild eyes, she grabbed a pair of scissors and lunged at him. The man easily countered her, and pushed her back across the desk. She regained her balance and glared as he began to speak.

"Sango," he said calmly. "Sooner or later you'll realise that from the moment your father failed to repay us, we _owned_ you, we _owned_ your brother. Behaving petulantly is not going to help you the slightest bit. Instead, try to perceive it as _business_. The sooner you complete your end, or rather, your late father's end of the transaction, the sooner you and your brother will be released."

'_Late father my ass! He wouldn't be dead if it had not been for you!' _She lunged at him again. All she could focus on was his execrable face, the bucolic way he looked at her. _'How dare he!'_ She raised her fist, aiming its trajectory. Suddenly, she felt a hand wrap around her wrist, crushing it, forcing her fist to slacken. Another hand chopped sideways into her neck, stunning her. He once again tossed her body across the desk. She crashed onto the floor. "Hn, Japanese Kickboxing," the man snorted, noting her movements. "There's no grace, no finesse. It certainly is powerful, but it is unrestrained violence."

Her head dropped, and she dragged herself up the dark, mahogany desk. She was breathing heavily now, she was struggling to calm herself down. _'Kohaku…'_ she thought. She knew there was no way she would be able to defeat him alone. The man was too smart, too strong. She would have to swallow her pride. She had been outplayed from the very beginning with her brother and herself virtually hostages to each other; there were no risk-free moves. "What would I have to do?"

"Good to see some sense from you at last," the man responded. "Follow me."

"Wait."

He stopped.

"What's your name?" she breathed.

"Naraku. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

'_Naraku…huh…'_ she repeated in her mind. She wouldn't forget his name.

* * *

The black Mercedes pulled into the stone paved driveway as the great iron gates made way. A magnanimous mansion loomed up ahead, the centrepiece of the venerable estate. Land was expensive in the city of Tokyo but the young Lord's search for solitude meant he spared no expense. Floodlights lit up the driveway as the car cruised towards the valet entrance; black and white tiles chequered its grounding. Everything about the man symbolized of nobility, ranging from his gentry-like status to his dignified attitude. The illustrious chateau that stood before them did little to hinder that view.

The Mercedes stopped beneath the sandstone canopy, its ebony-coloured paint contrasting against the modern, ecru hues of the building. The young Lord stepped out of the vehicle, _katana_ in hand. There were no peon there to greet him; instead, another elderly man accosted him.

"Welcome back, my Lord," he spoke humbly. The Mercedes left, the driver intending to park the vehicle. "Is there anything I may do for you?" he enquired.

"No," the young Lord replied. "I am tired. I think I will retire to my quarters,"

The elderly man nodded, and collected the _katana_ from his hand. It was a scene he was familiar with; the man was oft enervated after conflict. It had long saddened him to see the great Sesshoumaru suffer an incurable ailment, one that no doctor could treat. _'All he should do is rest,'_ they unanimously counselled. It was indeed most unfortunate that the magnate faced serious challenges regarding his health. Suffering polio as a child, his phrenic nerve was affected resulting in permanent breathing difficulty. Any strenuous physical exertions would often result in laborious breathing and stress upon his body. Years of training had regained some strength for his pulmonary system but it would never be the same; he would forever be burdened by his affliction. As a result, the young Lord remained reclusive, and often refrained from becoming directly involved.

His father's decision to appoint Sesshoumaru as his successor to be the head of the Inutaisho Family was met with some resentment from the lieutenants below. Many began to question his judgement. After all, why should the crippled one assume authority? Would he even be capable of leading the men? But Sesshoumaru was as intelligent as he was ruthless and quickly earned the respect of the men who he commanded. Those that fell out of line were excommunicated, occasionally followed by a mysterious and untimely death soon after. With their loyalty assured, the great Sesshoumaru finally began to feel at ease as the head of the Inutaisho Family.

He watched the young Lord walk up the curved staircase and disappear into the second floor. "Totosai, how is our Lord doing?"

The elderly man turned and saw another approach him. He felt a chill run to his bones. The man was once Toga's most senior advisor, one who was trusted beyond all others, and one who also advocated Sesshoumaru's succession. However much intelligence he possessed however, the man was a sheer craven. He had even warned Toga that he would not risk his life for their cause, whatever it may be, or even for Toga himself. But the previous head of the Inutaisho Family had looked past his cowardice and valued his judgement and ability to strategise. The man was not one to necessarily be feared, but Totosai could not help but feel agitated around him, for he had a peculiar penchant for the taste of blood, most notably _human_ blood. The confidant was rumoured to even have stockpiled the blood of enemies within his quarters. Hence, due to the discord he felt from the man, he could not bring himself to completely trust him, even if Toga and Sesshoumaru felt they could.

"He is weary, Myoga," Totosai replied, eager to leave.

The other man merely nodded. He knew of Totosai's disposition but took no offence to it; many were of the same persuasion. He was used to it. Totosai turned to leave.

"Would you care for a glass of Tokaji?" Myoga invited.

Totosai stopped. He could not refuse the offer of the superior who stood before him. But then again, he only stood to benefit from any ensuing conversation with the man, despite however much he resented the man's presence. "Very well," he said with a hint of reluctance.

Myoga smiled. "Come."

Like all the other _staff_ that Sesshoumaru liked to retain on his property, Myoga also had a room on the ground floor. But a superior _staff_ member also meant a superior room; his overlooked the expanse of the Lord's estate and generous amounts of sunlight would pour in during the day. He opened the mini bar that resided in his abode, taking out a decanter that held the alcohol once enjoyed by Beethoven himself. Totosai could see no vessel that held the rumoured blood. _'Perhaps it is hidden elsewhere?'_ he wondered.

There was a sound of the Hungarian wine being poured. Myoga set the decanter down on the glass table. "Please, sit," he offered.

Totosai took the farthest seat possible. From it, he could view the epicurean sight of the moon that loomed above the high walls of Sesshoumaru's manor.

"I'm sure Lord Sesshoumaru is most probably aware of this but," Myoga began. "The recent spate of attacks on our territory is unlikely to desist."

Totosai nodded gravely. He had seen gradually how the normally cool-headed Sesshoumaru unconsciously revealed his agitation. "But why would you say that, all of a sudden?"

"Informants have told me that many smaller families have either sided with the Onigumo Family or have been overtaken. The reckless rate at which Naraku seeks power rivals that of Adolf Hitler. He is not going to cease just because Sesshoumaru came out of hiding once. He _knows_ Sesshoumaru is ill."

"But surely that was not the Onigumo Family today? They would not pass up the opportunity of killing their only true rival."

"No, it was a smaller gang; the Shichinintai. They have sided with Naraku's clan, no doubt idolising the glory and killing that it is associated with."

"Hmm…"

"For now, I think we'd be best off strengthening our ties with Hosenki, that way even _if_ Sesshoumaru is unable to fight, there will be another clan we can turn to for help."

"It's sad to think that even after this movement towards a more business orientated system, there still exists the Onigumo Clan who aren't afraid of bloodshed. The police are also too scared or too corrupt to do anything."

"But do not forget, that may act against us, for we too, are yakuza."

"But we do not hurt civilians! Surely that must work in our favour?"

"To the police, we're all the same."

The two old men sighed, Totosai's unease with his companion forgotten, superseded by the troubling premonition Myoga uttered. They sipped again from their respective glasses, staring at the crescent moon that floated above, wishing it would listen upon them favourably.

* * *

The train jolted to a stop. He jerked his head up, knocking it against the plastic pane behind him. "Ow!" he muttered, rubbing his head, wincing. A heavy weight was sprawled across his lap. He opened his eyes and saw the still, sleeping form of Kagome, leaning on her bag that was supported against the interior of the train. One arm had curled around his neck and her head rested on his shoulder; he could hear her softly breathing. "Hey, Kagome," he said, gently shaking her.

"Hmm?" she moaned, as she woke up. She rubbed her eyes.

"It's our stop, we gotta go!" he said with a hint of alarm in his voice.

"Hm? Oh!" She got up off his lap.

A notebook fell to the side as Inuyasha stood up.

"Hah? What's this?" Inuyasha quizzed loudly, as though in complaint. He picked it up.

"Ah! That's Sango's!" Kagome quickly exclaimed before dragging him to the closing doors. "Come on, it's closing!" The few commuters that remained on the train watched the pair with amusement. She breathed a sigh of relief as they escaped onto the platform. The hulking metal beast slowly began to make its way down the track.

"Geez, trust Sango to forget this," Inuyasha said, hopelessly. Her tendency to forget items was a deep rooted habit for her. How often did he have to pick up the items she left behind at his place, during her many visits? "I'll drop it at her place tomorrow morning, before training."

Kagome nodded. She took out her phone to call her friend. The phone rang for several seconds before a pre-recorded message began to play. _"Hi, you've reached Sango Fukushima! I'm not available to answer your call so please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as possible!"_ A beep followed.

"Hey Sango! You left your notebook behind! Inuyasha's got it and he said he'll return it to you tomorrow morning. Don't worry, I won't let him do anything to it! See ya!" She hung up.

Inuyasha scowled. "You always have to take the fun out of everything, don't you?"

"That has all her notes! You shouldn't mess around with that!"

"Keh! I wasn't gonna do much with it anyway…" he muttered. A car cruised by as they reached the street.

She clung onto his arm. "Aah, but it's been so long since I've stayed at your place for the night!" she proclaimed happily, changing the subject.

"What are you talking about? You stayed overnight a few days ago!"

"That's too long though," she whined.

He grinned, and she yelped as he picked her up, sweeping her off her feet.

"Make love to me the way you promised?" She looked up at him pleadingly.

He kissed her soft lips.

"Of course," he whispered.

* * *

Sango followed Naraku down the narrow corridor, the deep viridian tinge of the walls making the hallway appear darker than it was. She could hear some light jazz music from up ahead. There were some voices, a clink of glasses and a round of laughter. _'Could it be a bar?'_ she thought.

"I think you'll find the conditions very pleasant," Naraku said quaintly, as they neared the door. "The people who work here have made no complaints so I have been exceedingly generous in offering this position to you, Miss Fukushima."

"Somehow, I don't believe you," she remarked, sarcastically.

"Oh, but it's true. You should consider yourself fortunate that your brother is also available to do his part; otherwise I would not have such patience."

"You leave my brother out of this," she warned.

"It's too late for that, Miss Fukushima."

He opened the door.

Sango stared, agape. _'Everything is black and white…'_ she observed. Dark, polished tiles walled the room, its reflective surface softly scattering light. A Steinway sat centre stage, and she recognized the melodic riff of the standard being played. _'Misty, by Erroll Garner'_. How many times had she heard the world renown standard? Classy businessmen could be seen dressed in nothing less than suits, seated at the tables, drinks on the table, cigarettes in hand, cards laid out across the table. And that's what she noticed; _they were all men_. _'Some sort of gentlemen's club? A gambling club?_' Her eyes continued scanning the room. Finally, she caught sight of a black-corset clad figure with a pair of famed bunny ears, bent over, wiping some spillage off the tiled floor. The men at the nearby table were busy ogling her rear, making base remarks.

"You've got to be joking." She said. It was all but a charade; for all the effort the men put into looking sophisticated, the place was no better than a regular cabaret club.

"What's not to like?" Naraku said, simulating amusement. "It's clean, you're safer than a lot of other establishments; a _woman_ such as yourself should realise that this is about as good as it will get."

The way he said _woman_ struck a nerve within Sango. Her temper flared. "A _woman_?" she repeated. "You think because I'm a _woman_ that this is all I'm good for? To serve drinks or light cigarettes? A piece of meat for these_ pigs_?"

"I know of your particular persuasions, and you no doubt hate being treated on unequal grounds with regards to gender. Even so, I would still recommend this fine establishment as I personally run it. Think of your feminine qualities as an asset if you'd like."

"You know, you are so full of it; I'm not ashamed of being a woman. What kind of delusion do you suffer?"

Some men at a nearby table fell silent. Her words had grabbed their attention; they were glaring at her. "What's the meaning of this? Can't you control your women?" one man haughtily spoke.

Naraku raised his hands defensively. "My most sincere apologies, she is feistier then I initially thought. I will deal with her in my office."

"Yeah, you better!" some others grumbled. The entire room was looking at her now.

He grabbed her arm and began to lead her back towards through the narrow corridor. She shrugged him off, facing him angrily. "I detest the notion that you even _assumed_ I'd like this."

Naraku paused, then sighed. "I'm a busy man as you most probably understand, Miss Fukushima. There are many other matters I must attend to and it has no longer become an _interest_ of mine to amuse you by continuing this charade. I have tried to persuade you but you obviously do not understand what is good for you. I am fast running out of patience but I _will_ offer this proposition to you one more time; will you accept?"

She stared back into his calm eyes. Reason had given way to passion a long time ago; her fury now in control. She had long forgotten her brother; news of her father's death had only augmented the emotional shock she felt and she was no longer capable of weighing her choices rationally. She could feel the eyes of Naraku's many clients focusing on her, envisioning her in a corset, mentally pressuring her to give in. "No," she hissed defiantly.

"I see," he said, looking down in disappointment.

He snorted, and a smirk grew on his face. She felt her confidence drain away. _'What did he have planned now?'_ she thought, trepidant.

"Kagura," he summoned.

A woman came out of the shadows of the corridor.

He looked back up, his eyes glinting with utmost satisfaction. "Have Miss Fukushima taken to _Underworld_. I have no more use for her here."

The rouge-lipped woman made a gesture with her fan and two men stepped forward, taking Sango by the arms. The clientele within the establishment began applauding.

"You should have accepted the proposal," the rouge-lipped woman said, condescendingly.

"Where are you taking me?" Sango demanded, desperately trying to escape the vice-like grip of Kagura's subordinates.

The woman calmly fanned her _hiogi_. "To a place called _Underworld_," she said with nonchalance.

"What's that?"

A smirk appeared on Kagura's face. "A bordello," she replied. "See?" Kagura continued, enjoying the fear she saw in Sango's eyes. "I told you, you should have accepted the proposal."


	3. Misery Loves Company

Naraku walked back down the narrow corridor to the refuge of his cave. _'Such a shame,'_ he thought. But he couldn't help admiring his handiwork. Everything had fallen neatly into place. He had known it would have been unlikely that she would accept his initial offer; she would have been conceding his dominance. _'Very well, if she wants to play hardball…' _Either way, he would benefit. Still, he could not help but rue over the missed opportunity. Her perfect skin, her athletic yet attenuated build, her feisty attitude…it would have been fun to have a woman like her around. The rowdy laughter from _Spyder_, the establishment he personally ran, gradually faded out and was replaced by the echo of his footsteps. He opened the door to his office. An adolescent awaited him on the lounge, manga in hand as usual.

"Hakudoushi," Naraku beckoned.

The boy jumped off the lounge and moved towards the chairs by the great mahogany desk. He did not sit down. "How is the woman?" he enquired.

"She's just what we expected."

The boy grinned perversely. "So she's-"

"Yes," Naraku cut him off. He wasn't interested in the teenager's fantasies. "Have you dealt with the boy?" he asked, impatiently.

"Yes, we managed to convince him. He's under the same delusion as his sister, that by working for us, he would be helping himself."

Naraku gave a smug look. "Perfect," he said. _'This pathetic pair of siblings may successfully pay off their father's debt after all…'_

"Is he aware of his father's death?" Naraku continued.

"No, not yet."

Naraku nodded to himself. "Very well," he said after a pause. "Have Kohaku begin then," he motioned for Hakudoushi to leave.

_'Such child's play,'_ Naraku thought as he sat in his seat. He picked up a portfolio that lay centred on his desk. Everything truly was going according to plan; he had every right to admire his handiwork.

* * *

Blackness pervaded everywhere around him. He lifted up his hand and tried to peer through the darkness. He could barely make out a shadow. _'Light must be coming from somewhere,'_ he thought. He rubbed his wrists again; he could still feel the imprint of the rope that had constricted him earlier. _'Sis, please be ok,'_ he mentally begged. _'I'll help us get out of here.'_

"Hey! Anyone there?" he yelled, banging his fist against what he thought was a door. The bump seemed to suggest a slight gap in the wall; surely it was the only way in or out? The caliginous room did not respond. "Let me out!" he yelled again, desperate for light.

The darkness that surrounded him rendered him effectively blind; his sense of sight completely deprived. It made it even more difficult for the teen to forget the face of the boy with bleached hair. _'You will work for us, if you ever wish for yourself and your sister to be free,'_ the boy had said, as though it were prescribed somewhere, a universal law perhaps.

_'Surely he's younger than me?'_ Kohaku thought, surprised by the way the boy behaved. The boy had been so sure of his authority that he feared no-one. _'He's no ordinary kid,'_ Kohaku figured.

He slumped on the concrete floor again, resigned. The darkness had initially driven him mad; he had virtually been in hysterics, wondering if they had abandoned him there to die. But the appearance of the maleficent youth ironically had calmed him down; from his words Kohaku realised they still had plans for him. But what the plans were he did not know.

A light in the next room flickered to life and seeped through the crack beneath the door. He scrambled away from the door. He shielded his eyes as it opened, light pouring through the opening. A silhouette stood in the doorway with a curved blade in hand. His heart began racing and he felt sick to his stomach. Were they going to _kill_ him?

"Kohaku, come," the silhouette commanded.

He recognised the voice instantly. It was the voice of Hakudoushi.

"What for?" he asked timidly.

"You'll see," Hakudoushi replied, smugly. "Come."

He reluctantly obeyed.

_'A garage?'_ Kohaku wondered, as they entered what was essentially an underground, concrete bunker. Various cars were sprawled across the room, with the more exotic class of vehicles posing, as though on display. But Hakudoushi walked past, uninterested, heading towards a more common Toyota Crown, its silver paint still carrying a high sheen. He followed the boy into the backseat while an older yakuza member stepped into the driver's seat. They coasted out of the concrete shelter and onto the main road, the now pouring rain hammering its metal shell. He glanced up at the boy who was staring out the window. Blurs of orange and red whizzed past as a patrol car screamed ahead. Droplets of water amalgamated on the windscreen; a wiper swept it all aside. He stared at the car's digital console; a virtual, analogue clock told him the time. _'Eleven twenty-seven huh…past my bedtime,'_ he thought sardonically.

"Hey, where are we going?" Kohaku asked.

"A place," Hakudoushi replied, unhelpfully.

"For what?" he tried again.

"Warm-up."

"Warm-up for what?"

Hakudoushi cast Kohaku an annoyed glance and opted not to respond. Kohaku sighed to himself before leaning back, his hand resting on the luxurious leather trim. His father had always dreamed of owning his own car. A nice apartment or house would have come first, and then a car, perhaps a Lexus. It would have meant avoiding the cramped conditions of the Tokyo trains with each commute; it would have been a sign of wealth and success. In urban Tokyo, cars were not necessary to drive to work; cars were necessary to impress clients.

They left the business district of Tokyo and the forest of skyscrapers began to thin out. Soon, they vanished altogether, replaced by the shrubs of industrial warehouses. The vehicle turned and drove through a gate. The building that stood before them looked just like any other; how the driver knew which lot to enter was beyond Kohaku's comprehension. As they drew closer to the building, he noticed the shadows of various other vehicles were parked. A light inside turned on. The driver stopped the car. Kohaku's door opened automatically.

"Let's go," Hakudoushi said, stepping out his side.

Kohaku meekly followed the boy towards the building. He noticed that the white-haired boy still held the sickle in hand. A door was opened for the pair; they stepped inside. The tapping of their footsteps resounded through the empty building. Above the echo, he could hear muffled cries emanating from the lit up room. Another door was opened for the pair. They entered. "Leave," he heard Hakudoushi say, and the men exited.

One naked figure remained, beneath the light. A man, seemingly one of their own, had been tied to a chair, and his wounds suggested he had been beaten badly. Shades of indigo and violet had flowered across his skin, tattoo's barely concealing the bruises that appeared across his body. Blood dripped from numerous orifices, most notably the nose and mouth. His breathing was laborious, a raspy sound accompanied every exhalation. Kohaku looked down, unable to stomach the sight. Hakudoushi walked towards him and lifted up his chin such that they were looking into each other's eyes.

"Use this, and kill him," Hakudoushi said, pressing a cold metallic object into his hand.

He looked down and noticed it was the same sickle that he had carried earlier. He felt another wave of sickness overcome him. _'This is what he meant by warm up?'_ Kohaku thought, beginning to panic. There was no way he could bring himself to kill a man, much less one he did not even know. He was just a kid, he had could not do this. He felt angry tears well up in his eyes.

"No!" he refused, casting the curved blade away. A rattle was heard as it hit the wall.

Hakudoushi was not dissuaded. "Don't forget, Kohaku, that we own you now; you agreed to work for us."

"But not like this! I can't kill someone! I don't even know this man!"

He looked up. The man in the centre of the room did not respond; he was unconscious.

"I figured you would still be too soft to kill someone," Hakudoushi said calmly. "Which is why I suggested a 'warm-up' round."

"What kind of sick game is this?"

Hakudoushi's eyes flashed with anger. "This is no game, Kohaku." He picked up the sickle off the dusty floor. "I really do hope you get your feet wet very soon or else we _will_ throw you in the deep end. The sooner you get started, the sooner you and your sister will be released." He pressed the handle into Kohaku's hand once again. "Besides, you should want to kill this man, since he killed your father."

_'What…?'_ Kohaku gaped, the shock left him unable to reply.

"Oh, didn't I tell you earlier? I'm sorry," Hakudoushi said, fabricating regret. The joy in his voice however, was blatantly obvious.

He felt a storm build inside him; a storm mixed with feelings of hatred for the boy, and feelings of vexation that he could do nothing about it. "But…earlier, you said-"

"I lied. It's a habit of mine." He flashed a grin.

The man in the chair began to stir.

"Oh dear, he's waking up," Hakudoushi said. "You might want to get him while he's still out of it; it's easier that way."

Kohaku's mind was a blur, and he tried to force it to work again, struggling to keep his composure. "But…if he's one of your men…why do you want to kill him?"

The boy shrugged. "Disposable? Unreliable? Oh yes, he _betrayed_ us for the Inutaisho clan!" he slapped his own head in comical fashion, faking the instant realization.

The name was not familiar to him.

He turned back towards Kohaku. "Anyway, that's not really a concern of yours. I'm giving you quite a generous offer, a chance to avenge your father's death."

It would achieve nothing to kill the man in the chair; the man was but an anonymous face. He did feel however, an overwhelming desire to lop off the head of the boy, the spiteful youth who derived joy from the suffering of others. Kohaku shook his head. "Dad would not want me to do this." He lowered the curved blade again, resisting the temptation. He did not know what would become of his sister, Sango, should he react to the boy's chiding.

Hakudoushi's patience was running thin. "Are you that weak, Kohaku? Making excuses over why you should not kill this man? Very well, perhaps _this_ may finally persuade you then!"

He took out his mobile phone and flipped it open. He began to stream a video; Kohaku's eyes widened in horror at the scene that played before him. _'Sis…?'_ A tear ran down his cheek. A deep primal emotion surged through him; he was quivering with rage now. "You bastard," he echoed the words of his sister. He lunged at the pallid-skinned boy with the miniature scythe, screaming. He had succumbed to the taunting of Hakudoushi, allowing his emotions to take control. Hakudoushi smirked. He took a quick sidestep, revealing the man hidden behind him. For an instant, Kohaku had forgotten him. In a furor, he had rushed the boy, building up too much momentum; he would not be able to stop in time. The sickle in hand had already been delivered halfway; there was no way to save the quivering figure before him.

Blood sprayed out of the newly punctured aperture, droplets smeared across his face. The man convulsed slightly before finally come to a rest. Kohaku looked in horror at what he had just done. He felt a hand pat him on the back. "Don't worry Kohaku, the first one is always the hardest," Hakudoushi mentored. He jerked the blade out of the wound before wiping it clean with a cloth. Kohaku did not notice him leave the room.

He collapsed onto the floor. Two men propped him up and began to take him out of the room. Another two were busy releasing the corpse of the man he had just killed. He stared in anguish at the old office as he was dragged away, feeling like he had just been tricked into selling his soul to the devil.

* * *

Inuyasha stared down at the beautiful sight before him. He inhaled her intoxicating scent again. _'God, you smell good…'_ he mentally conversed with her. He watched her softly snore away. He did not want to leave. _'Stupid Sango and her stupid early morning training and her stupid forgetfulness…'_ Inuyasha grumbled in his mind as he got out of bed and prepared himself some coffee. He walked to the heavy sliding doors that led to a verandah and opened the curtains. The darkness greeted him alongside the cold; the morning sun had not risen yet. Streetlights and neon signs could still be seen from a distance. He yawned.

He looked around the luxurious apartment, proud of his choice. It's proximity to the train station was convenient, and it was high enough to evade the sounds of traffic. Should he be home, he could view the majestic sun set from his living room, unimpeded by other towering skyscrapers that failed to reach his apartment's height. The sheer cost of the place was far beyond what he would have managed had he lived off a regular university student's wages. It was due to his father's untimely death that he had received a considerable amount of money, even if a far greater sum had gone to his half brother, Sesshoumaru. He could still picture the way the gallant man had looked at him with disdain upon hearing that Inuyasha would be inheriting part of the vast fortune. Sesshoumaru had never approved of what he saw as his father's _philandering_, despite the fact that he had divorced his mother long before Inuyasha had been borne. Consequently, he had always viewed his half brother with a bit of contempt, though that too, was beginning to change. Inuyasha, on the other hand, had oft mistook Sesshoumaru's disposition and admired the aloof stance he always presented, always believing it to grant his brother a certain _dashing_ quality.

He poured the espresso-strength coffee into a mug, diluting it with a large volume of milk before downing it in one gulp. He went upstairs and gave the sleeping Kagome a kiss on the cheek before grabbing his bag and heading for the elevator. He would occasionally drive to Sango's place whenever he had no need to go to class. Having Friday's off for the semester meant a longer weekend and he planned to make the most of it. The elevator doors opened, and he pressed the button 'B2'. His Nissan GT-R spent most of its time hiding out in the cool, underground carpark. It carried slight modifications, which kept the look clean but slightly more brutal. It was a car lover's wet dream and he treated it impeccably.

The elevator doors opened as he reached the basement. He walked towards the pearlescent white vehicle, its undertone of silver preventing the car from looking too glossy. He lowered himself into the car and pressed the red ignition button. The engine growled into life, and he gave it a quick rev. The ensuing roar resounded through the garage, the music spoilt by the wailing that came from beside him; the car's alarm had been activated. _'Whoops,'_ Inuyasha thought, quickly exiting the basement floor. He had done it once before, but in his tiredness he had completely forgotten. _'Mr Tanaka won't be happy.'_

He adjusted his docked iPod as he waited for the roller shutter to open. A guitar riff began to blare out of the audio system's Bose speakers. He nodded his head in time to the drums as he cruised down the empty roads of Tokyo. The leather trim felt good beneath his hands, almost as good as the car's response. He had taken it out onto a race track once before. Japanese cars suffered the unfortunate bane of being speed limited to one hundred and eighty kilometres per hour so he had to make the extra effort of importing a right-hand drive from Europe. The result? A car that could exceed three-hundred kilometres per hour. The car had been built so stable that it would not waver even as it approached its top speed; it felt as though it had no limit.

Inuyasha slowed down as he approached Sango's neighbourhood; its streets dark and narrow. He pulled up by the kerbside outside her apartment. He took out his phone and selected Sango's number from the contacts list. He made his way to the elevator doors, put the receiver to his ear and waited. _"Hi, you've reached Sango Fukushima! I'm not available-"_ was heard as the elevator climbed up the floors. The LED screen changed the display with regularity. _'3…4…5…6…'_

"Tsch! Still asleep?" he closed the phone, grumbling. He exited the elevator and headed towards Sango's apartment. "Hey Sango! Get up!" he rapped his knuckles on the door. There was no response. "Still sleeping?" He tried dialling her number again. The same recorded voice message replayed through the receiver. "Damn it Sango! You make me leave Kagome and you're not even ready-" he opened the door and froze. _'What…happened…?'_ He stared at the empty room. _'This is the right apartment isn't it?'_ He checked the number on the door again. It was the right one. Of course it was the right one. He could not even remember the first time he came to her place. _'She didn't move without telling me did she?'_ He absent-mindedly went to her room. The same mess greeted him in. Her desk was missing. He stepped awkwardly over the clothes that lay on the floor, unable to tell which was used and which was clean. He noticed her photo frames had been dumped onto the floor, its glass fractured. _'Something's wrong…'_ he thought.

He tried dialling her number one more time, with yet the same results. _'Maybe Kagome knows…'_ he thought, dialling her number. The familiar ring played out for what felt like a lifetime before he heard the phone pick up. "Kagome!" he said with a sense of urgency.

A sleepy voice answered. "…yeah?" he heard her mumble.

"Did Sango ever mention anything about moving?"

"Huh? Moving? What are you talking about?" she moaned wearily. She was still half-asleep.

"Moving! Like moving apartments or something?"

"Not that I know of…"

_'Damn it! Kagome doesn't know either!'_

"Ahh," he sighed aloud. "Okay, never mind then," he said, his urgency never ceasing.

"What's going on?" Kagome sounded slightly more alert now.

"I'll explain later when I find out. Sorry about waking you. See you later, baby."

"Ok…" she replied, before he hung up.

_'Where could she be?'_ He had long forgotten about her notebook. He went back to her room and rummaged through the clutter on her floor, hoping to find something, a clue perhaps. There was none. He could try going to the police but she was an adult and had not even been gone for twenty-four hours; they would not help him. He raided Kohaku's room but it too was the same. He heard the creak of floorboards from the tenants above. _'Tsch, that's got to be annoying…'_ he thought. Then it struck him; perhaps someone next door heard something?

He hurried to her neighbour next door and knocked. Nobody answered. He knocked again, louder this time. He heard footsteps make their way towards the door, a man grumbling.

"It's five in the morning so this better be important," he snarled as he opened the door.

Inuyasha stood, unfazed. "Do you know what happened next door?"

"You mean, the Fukushima family?"

"Yeah."

"Like I would! I have nothing to do with them," the man answered. "Now get lost!" He slammed the door shut.

Inuyasha wasn't fooled; he saw the fear in his eyes, he heard the tremble in his voice. He wasn't eager to share any information. _'So something did happen…'_

He went and tried her other neighbour. This time, an elderly woman answered. She opened the door cautiously, peering through the gap, chain lock still in place. "Yes?" she croaked in a frail voice.

"Um, I'm a friend of the Fukushima family. I was wondering if you could tell me what happened last night-"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I went to sleep early last night so I don't really know…" she began to close the door.

He jammed his foot into the gap. "Please!" he pleaded. "I can see you know something…" He didn't like pushing the elderly woman, she even resembled his grandmother. She seemed scared enough already, who was to tell how much stress she could take? But he had no choice; manipulating the elderly woman was a far easier alternative than fighting with the raging middle-aged man. The brute looked more prepared to throw him off the ledge than divulge any information so he was not going to take his chances.

The woman trembled slightly, before whispering, "A boy came and took the girl away…"

_'A…boy…?'_

"…and then some men came and plundered the place afterwards. Please go away!" she begged, pushing against the door again.

That sounded a little more feasible. He could not imagine Sango fearing a brat; hell, _he_ sometimes feared her. "What did these men look like?"

She hesitated. "Like…I don't know! Please, leave!"

He pushed harder. "You know something! I can tell! These people are dear friends of mine! I need to know!"

Her voice dropped to one barely above a whisper. "I think they were the yakuza…"

He pulled his foot out the door and it fell shut. A deadlock clicked into place. _'Yakuza…huh…'_ he thought. He began to run towards the stairs. Perhaps there was yet a man who could help him.

* * *

She stared up at the cerise coloured ceiling, glowing in the red light. How long did she lay there? It could have been an hour, it could have been a day; a numb, semi-conscious state. The tears had long dried, there were none left to give. The skin of her face would sting every now and then, answering to the violent whims of the ugly client. She could no longer feel the man violate her, as he defiled her sacred womanhood. She retained her semi-comatose state, regardless of what he did; a necrophiliac's dream? The scent of cigarettes wafted through the rooms, both mistresses and clients smoking.

The bed creaked as the man got up, buckling his belt, his lust satiated. "Quiet one, aren't you?" he said, sneering. He left. She was alone again.

Was it night or day? She could not tell; she was boxed in a windowless room, trapped like a rat. She tried to draw her negligee down, covering as much of her soiled body as she could. A meagre looking meal had been left on a tray by the bed, brought in by yet another soulless looking child. What was it with Naraku and children? He seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with them; perhaps they too, were kidnapped from parents who could not afford to repay their debts? No, she couldn't imagine the silver haired boy was a victim; he had authority. He would be related in some other way, a son, or lost nephew perhaps. He was a twisted child. She could only hope that Kohaku would not fall to the same influence and remain untainted; she would have to try and escape. But with a chain cuffed to her neck, there was no place to run.

"Daddy…" she whimpered, picking up the tray, and she never felt more alone in her life.

* * *

"Sesshoumaru!"

The young Lord looked up to see a blur of silver barge into the dining room. His eyes narrowed. "Inuyasha," he said calmly. He leaned back into his chair, setting down the coffee he was about to drink. A half-eaten Danish sat on his plate. To be sure, Sesshoumaru's heritage was indeed, pure Japanese. His penchant for almost anything Western however, as could be seen by the breakfast that lay before him, often led many to believe otherwise.

Another man came rushing in afterwards, panting hard. "I'm sorry my Lord, I could not stop him!"

"Never mind, Jaken." He was already preoccupied. He studied the face of the consanguine man. _'Hnn, he's distressed…'_ he noted, amused. _'Perhaps money this time? Or could it be a woman again?'_

"I shall escort him out, my Lord,"

"No, let him be. Have a seat, Inuyasha," he gestured. "Coffee?" he offered without a hint of animosity.

Inuyasha nodded slowly.

"Very well, Jaken, serve Inuyasha some coffee."

"Yes, my Lord."

The servant left.

"Well then, what brings my half-brother to barge into my home so early in the morning?"

Inuyasha hesitated. His throat felt dry and he struggled to speak, only to make a guttural, hacking noise. _'Come on! Stop being so nervous!'_ he told himself but he could not slow his racing heart, the cesspool of emotions he felt. He had not seen his half-brother since their father's death, half a year ago. Sesshoumaru was now well and truly the head of the Intaisho clan, and he was no longer one with so much spare time. His underlying ruthlessness had not changed, and it was perhaps this that he feared; that his half-brother would not help him.

"Sango's gone missing," he finally managed to croak out.

A bemused Sesshoumaru stared back. "…who?"

"She's a close friend of mine. My closest friend, actually."

"How fascinating." He yawned.

Inuyasha looked up, agitated. "Do you know where she is?"

"No. Why would I?" Sesshoumaru retained his calm demeanour.

"Because…I heard the yakuza may have been involved…"

"Ah, so you act on the whim of a rumour…"

"Shut up! There was nothing else to go with!" Inuyasha jumped at the bait.

"There's always something else to go with," Sesshoumaru replied, flatly.

A period of silence ensued. Jaken entered again, this time with coffee.

Finally, Sesshoumaru spoke. "Look Inuyasha, even supposing it was the yakuza who kidnapped your precious friend; those are not grounds for assuming I would know something about it. A myriad of gangs exist in Tokyo alone; without more information, you'd still be at square one."

"So what you're saying is, you wouldn't have the slightest clue as to who could be responsible?" Inuyasha surmised.

"I may," Sesshoumaru answered, deliberately vague.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that even though you are my half-brother, I am in no way obligated to help you."

Inuyasha stood up. "I see…" He turned to leave.

Sesshoumaru waited for him to approach the door. "I will however, assist the troubled lass," he said, casually.

Inuyasha turned confused, but hopeful as well. "You…what…?"

"Do not get me wrong Inuyasha; I still think that you are Father's worst mistake. But such frivolous issues are no longer a concern of mine, so consider yourself fortunate. The reason why I will help you is that I detest what the yakuza stand for, today. We are considered a semi-legitimate occupation, one where so long as we do not commit grave crimes against ordinary citizens, we are tolerated. I hope that one day we do not need to play politics in the shadows; that we can be proud and truly open of what we do. I abhor this prostitution, this blackmailing, this cheap, shady business we have come to. I derive protection money, not by threatening businesses, but by promising them safety from other gangs. We have strayed from our far nobler roots; I intend to revive them. Since my enemies are forming alliances, it seems that killing off the small ones no longer matter; I may as well face them all."

There was a moment's silence. He had never heard such a long speech from his brother before. "Sounds rather soft, Sesshoumaru; especially for you." He finally scoffed.

The older brother glared back. "I am willingly offering you my assistance. If you were wise, you would stop making such snide remarks and accept it."

Inuyasha relaxed. _'You're trying too hard to be cool, Sesshoumaru.'_

"Go and see Myoga. He may know something," Sesshoumaru said, sensing Inuyasha regain his composure. It was still too easy to tease him.

"Just skip the Utopian talk next time," he grinned at his half-brother.

The man shook his head slowly before returning to his breakfast.

* * *

He was back in the darkness again, slowly but surely sinking into a depression. He held his hand in front of his face again, trying to make out the faint outline. He had been thrown into the same room yet again, the same prison. He couldn't shake the image of the man out of his mind, the man whose life he'd taken. He rubbed his hands on the hem of his shirt, desperate to get rid of the blood he still felt. _'Come off! Come off already!'_ he thought, rubbing his hand furiously against the fabric. His hand was beginning to burn. The blood refused to come off.

_'Kohaku…'_ the darkness seemed to whisper. Its voice was gentle, calming, like waves breaking softly on the shore.

"Huh?" Kohaku gasped. He turned his head frantically, trying to see where the voice came from.

_'Do not worry…just forget it all...it's easier…'_ it whispered slowly, again.

"But…I killed a man!" he protested, shame filling inside him. It felt strange to say those words; it felt so alien. In a way it felt all too surreal; was it too much to wish it was all a bad dream? Was it too much to be cradled in his sister's arms like she had done when he was young?

_'It's ok…come here, be with me…and all the pain will go away…'_

He crouched further into a corner. "No, go away! I don't want to listen to you!" He covered his ears.

_'But…there's no-one left…'_

"No…Sis is still here! I want, Sis!" he pleaded.

_'She's gone…she's left you behind…the only one here for you…is me…'_

"No she hasn't! She wouldn't do that to me! You're lying!"

_'But…she has…because she is not here…with you…'_

"Shut up! Shut up! I said I don't want to listen to you! Why are you still talking?"

_'Because…I care about you…'_ it responded sadly.

"No you don't! You just want to use me, like the men outside!"

_'No, I don't…I want to help you…so that you don't feel any more pain…'_

"And how would you do that?" Kohaku shot, angrily.

_'By making you forget…'_

He released the hands from his ears. "…you can do that?"

_'Yes… leave everything behind…come, be with me…'_ it beckoned.

He wiped away a tear. The pervading darkness suddenly felt comfortable, as though it was where he now belonged. He could feel it as it slowly began to consume his mind, his personality began to disappear. He could picture the anguish of his sister as she pleaded for him to return. A flashback flared in his mind, back to a time when he hurt the one he loved. He felt the pain in his heart and he pushed his begging sister away.

"Darkness…be my friend."

* * *

**A/N:** It would only be right to credit Australian author, John Marsden, with the final line _'Darkness, Be My Friend'. _Also, figured since I'm writing my first author's note in a long time, I'd just let you know that I've started uni again and that while next week's update will continue as scheduled, I will most likely go on a bit of a hiatus afterwards. Unfortunately, I am suffering a bit of writer's block at the moment and hopefully this break will recharge my mind and allow me to experience new events to inspire me. Many thanks to my readers and reviewers especially, as your comments mean the world to me.


	4. Collar

The rain poured down on the white Nissan GT-R as it raced through the streets of Tokyo. Rush hour had long passed and the streets felt empty; the typhoon that raged overhead kept most cars off the road. The Nissan's xenon headlights pierced the darkness ahead and Inuyasha could see the corner coming up. He brought the car back down to first gear as he slid around the corner. His driving was instinctive; it was heart over mind. Water sprayed onto the footpath.

'_Sango…just hang on a little longer…'_

He had received the call from Myoga earlier that evening. _'Inuyasha, Sango is at Underworld, a brothel run by the Onigumo-clan-_'

He had hung up straight afterwards, acting on impulse. It was only after he could not locate _Underworld_ through his GPS that he stopped to think. He realised that perhaps rushing in there without a plan was not such a bright move; after all, tackling a yakuza-run establishment without a _weapon_ even was something only the most stupid would consider. A phone call had ensued and before he knew it, he was back at Sesshoumaru's abode. _'Use this, Inuyasha,'_ Sesshoumaru had said, handing Inuyasha a pistol. _'USP 9. German. Weapon of choice for SAT,'_ he had calmly explained.

'_Wow, he sure has no problems with firearms…'_

After a quick tutorial, he had taken off. Myoga had already input the coordinates into Inuyasha's GPS; all he had to do was follow it.

"Turn left in one hundred metres," a pre-recorded voice said. He turned. Up ahead was the pawn broker's sign. He had arrived. Inuyasha slammed the brakes, ignoring the puddles that had amassed on the road. The car hydroplaned for a few seconds before spinning to halt, bumping against the kerb. _'Shit,'_ Inuyasha cursed in his mind. But he had other things to worry about. He stepped out into the pouring rain, adjusting his trench coat. He ran towards the red glowing stairs that led beneath the building. _'How appropriate…'_

The stench of cigarette smoke filled his nostrils as he entered the reception. "Welcome to Underworld," a woman behind a desk greeted him. He nodded his head. He looked around. Some yakuza were playing poker in the lounge, perhaps guards on duty. Several women had joined them and were laughing along, stroking their egos. A large pile of chips lay in the centre of the table and two of the men were facing off.

"I raise, ten thousand," he said casting a several plastic coins into the pile. The other gangster looked at him nervously. He had a bandage plastered across his nose, as though it had been broken.

The others egged him on. "Raise, man! Don't be a chicken!"

"Call it! He's bluffing!"

"Don't back off now! You'll lose everything!"

The man gave in to the pressure and matched the bet.

"Flush!" the first man called, triumphant.

The second slammed down his cards. "Fuck you guys!" he swore out loud. There was laughter.

Inuyasha walked up to the desk.

"What do you have?" he asked casually, pretending to be a client.

The woman took out a folder. She opened it, displaying the profiles of the women they had on offer. He flicked through the pages, pretending to look uninterested. There were a variety of women; many were from overseas. _'Korean…Chinese…Russian…even German…'_ he thought, shocked at the wide range. _'Have these people all been smuggled by the Onigumo-clan alone?'_

He continued flicking through the plastic files, growing more and more desperate. There were only a few pages left. He flicked over the last one. He had reached the end; there was no Sango.

He closed the folder and pushed it back to the woman. "Tell me, do you perchance have any other women? Perhaps a recent acquisition?"

The woman gave him a strange look before nodding slowly. "Well, we do have one but…" she said uncertainly.

"But what?"

"She's very new…not many guests were entertained with her. They say she doesn't get into it and that she's unresponsive. We have no guarantees for her."

"That's okay, I prefer them that way," he winked.

"Well, if you insist. Since she's unreliable, we'll give you a special price of 8000 yen for half an hour. How does that sound?"

'_8000 yen? Half an hour? What the hell is this? That's rather exorbitant…'_ But he had never been to a bordello before; he did not know what the average price was.

"Very well," he agreed amiably, taking out a wad of notes from his wallet.

"You've never visited such an establishment before, have you?" the woman observed.

"That obvious, huh?"

"Well I should think a man like you would have no need to pay for sexual services," she offered, flatteringly. "Kanna here will show you the way," she took the notes.

He turned to see a young girl with blank eyes. _'Huh?'_ Inuyasha stared at her. _'Why's there such a young girl here?'_ Her aloof presentation suddenly worried him._ 'She couldn't possibly mean this girl could she?'_

"Excuse me, miss," he said to the woman at the counter. "She's not…the new one is she…?"

The woman laughed. "Good Lord, no! The woman you seek is waiting for you in the room."

"Oh, okay," Inuyasha said, pretending to ease up. But he could not relax. It still felt so wrong to have an underage child working in such an establishment…perhaps if he could grab her as well on the way out…

"This way please," the girl invited, her soulless voice chilling.

He followed her down the narrow red corridor. Moans could be heard, emanating from the behind closed doors. The girl walked past, oblivious to the erotic sounds he heard. _'Geez, this place is really twisted…'_ he thought. The concept of having to pay for something he could always get for free seemed ridiculous for him. He had often heard other men spruik the benefits of no emotional attachment, the one-off payment, the risk-free activity. It still did not feel right though; no emotional gratification would be present either. But then again that was precisely what bordellos existed for; empty, meaningless, sexual liaisons.

Finally, the girl stopped at an open door. A curtain was hung over the entrance. "In here…" she whispered.

Inuyasha nodded his thanks before stepping uncertainly into the room, unsure of what would lay before him. He felt the blood drain away from his face as he saw the figure that sat slumped on the bed. A negligee was all that clothed her; a collar was clasped around her neck. She did not look up at her new visitor. Even in the poor light, he could see how hollow her eyes were. _'What…the…hell…'_ he thought, quivering with rage. He did not notice the tear that escaped his eye.

The door behind him closed. They were alone now. He stepped forward, slowly, to the depressed figure that sat before him. Her hair was not tied in its usual high ponytail; its state a dishevelled mess. _'Sango…'_ Her name ran through his mind again and again. He could not bear to see his friend this way. He knelt on one knee before her. She still refused to look up. He removed his trench coat.

"Sango…" he finally managed to choke.

He grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, guiding her head up. Her sunken eyes widened at the shock of seeing her childhood friend. "Inuyasha…" she whispered. Her eyes began to shimmer. Feelings of shame and relief swept over her. "Inuyasha!" she broke down into tears, wrapping her arms around him.

"Sssh…you'll be okay now…" he gently cooed while stroking her hair.

'_I'll get you out of here…'_

_

* * *

  
_

'_Hn, Inuyasha cannot wait, can he?'_ Sesshoumaru thought, spying the pearlescent white Nissan. The six point three litre V8 beast that holed beneath the bonnet was cut off with a growl. His fingers curled around the scabbard of his _katana_. It bore an unusual pattern; one with a distinct oriental flavour. Perhaps its most interesting feature was the fact that the pattern also continued from the handle along the blunt edge of blade. Frequently mistaken for a ceremonial sword, he rarely used it. He wasn't even entirely sure why he decided tonight was appropriate, it just _felt_ right to use it.

He heard the clink of a lighter come from beside him and a girl of about seventeen years or so lit up a cigarette. She was barely sixteen when he first came across her; she had been on the brink of death, beaten and raped by the Yorozoku clan. The proud man refused to tolerate such a heinous crime and the Yorozoku clan had paid dearly. The girl's parents, having been killed by the now-deceased gangsters, remained under Sesshoumaru's wing and her admiration for the man grew exponentially. Her devotion to the young Lord rivalled that of his most trusted subordinates, and she silently envied anyone that consumed too much of his attention.

"Rin, I thought I told you to stop smoking," Sesshoumaru spoke, the scent of the cigarette smoke wafting through the car. She narrowly opened the window to allow the smell to dissipate.

"It keeps me calm," she replied. She pulled a bolt before settling the firearm on her lap. A man in front did the same.

Sesshoumaru stared out the window again. The red glow of the stairwell seemed to taunt him. The rain had calmed down now; it was no longer a torrential downpour. He sighed. He may as well get it over with.

"Jaken, wait here. Rin, come with me."

* * *

The man with the plaster had been watching the silver-haired man who had entered earlier. He snuffed the cigarette he had been smoking. The Inutaisho clan's former leader, Toga, had been famous for it. No other person within the _country_ perhaps had naturally silver hair. It was a bizarre mutation, one that was instantly recognizable, but one that was also feared. What was most notable was how the gene had been passed onto his son and successor, Sesshoumaru. But the one who had entered was not him; he lacked the distinct crescent moon on his forehead, the red whiskers that emblazoned his cheeks. Could the man who just entered be related to their rival clan? He would have to find out.

"Hey guys, I need to go do something quickly," he said.

The others laughed. "What, you can't handle the pressure?" they sneered.

"Shut up, I'll be back as soon as I'm done."

"His bladder is failing him!"

More laughter followed.

He ignored the rabble and stood up, watching the man disappear down the corridor. He quickly followed. _'What could he possibly want?'_ the gangster wondered. He watched the silver-haired man walk deeper into the corridor. He showed no signs of slowing down. He followed him down the maze, keeping a fair distance. Finally, he stopped and Kanna pointed him to a room. He paused for a moment, walked inside and shut the door.

"Yo, Kanna," he beckoned as she began to head back towards the counter.

"Yes?"

"Who's the kid?"

"A first timer," she responded flatly.

The man smirked. "Who'd he pick?"

"The new girl,"

"How'd he know about her?"

"He asked Miss Tomiko at the counter,"

"Hnnnn…ok," he finished, pretending to be satisfied.

'_Tsch, this punk's probably no client…'_ he surmised as he made his way towards the door.

He pressed his ear against the thin door. Why were there doors at all? It did very little to muffle the sound; a heavy curtain would have been more effective. "Sango…" he heard a male voice say.

"Inuyasha!" the woman had responded.

'_Inuyasha?_' The way she said the word…he felt himself rile up. His intuition had been right. _'He does know the bitch!'_ He kicked the door down. The pair were in the midst of an embrace. The girls' eyes opened at the shock of seeing the door fly in. "You punk!" he vociferated, bringing down his fists on the man's head before the pair could react. Inuyasha gasped and collapsed onto the bed, stunned.

"Inuyasha!" the girl screamed.

He slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. "Shut up, slut!" he growled, grabbing Inuyasha by his hair. He threw him on the floor. "Thought you could fool the Onigumo-clan, huh? Trying to nab our girls huh?" He stomped his foot on the boy who was now lying on the floor. He groaned, doubling over in pain. He coughed up some blood before he felt another blow to the head. His head began to reel as dizziness set in.

"Stop it!" the girl screamed. She slammed her elbow into the man's spine.

"You bitch!" the man cursed as he regained his balance and jumped on her. His hands began to crush the collar and in turn, her throat. Two days of meagre, drug-laden food had debilitated her; the force she could muster was nowhere near her usual strength. "Can't do anything now, can ya?" he taunted. But he was not satisfied for her expression remained defiant; there was no fear in her eyes, only hatred. _'Oh well, she knows she's dying…'_ he comforted himself as he gripped his hands tighter.

A deafening crack filled the room and he looked up, temporarily releasing his grip. She gasped for some air and realised what to aim for. She threw a punch into the plaster covering his nose.

"Aaahhh!" the man screamed in agony as he fell back. He tripped and landed on the figure that lay on the floor. The boy gasped under the sudden impact of his weight and released the pistol. _'You little shit...!'_ The man grabbed the pistol and dragged the still-stunned figure out towards the doorway.

"Inuyasha!" the girl screamed again, struggling to escape the shackle that restricted her.

He looked back triumphantly, safe that he would not be distracted by her again. He had been lucky to have avoided the first shot; things could have been a lot worse. _'Oh well, as soon as I'm done with this kid, I'll have more time for that bitch again…'_ He would have plenty of time to have his way with her, and he would enjoy it a _lot_ more this time now that she was kicking and screaming. Then maybe he'd put a bullet to her head.

"Tell me who you are!" he hissed, leaning over the boy, cocking the pistol against his forehead. Sweat began to pour from the boy's skin. He defiantly kept his mouth shut. "You'd better start talking, if you wanna live, that is!" He ground the barrel deeper into the boy's forehead, shaping an imprint of the circular exit chamber into his skin. A shot had already been fired earlier; there was no need to worry about the safety. "Are you affiliated in _any_ way with the Inutaisho gang?" The boy's subdued reaction suggested recognition of the name. He felt his heart beating wildly. Could this be the leverage the Onigumo clan desperately needed? Adrenalin pumped through his body as he began to fantasize about the accolades Naraku would shower him with.

The boy shut his eyes. He felt something thrust through his body. He looked down. A thick, red liquid was flowing down its steel path, tracing its way through the ornamental pattern. Pain began to cloud his mind and he felt himself begin to reel. There was no time to feel any fear, any panic; only confusion.

'_Is it…over…already…?_'

Then his world went black.

* * *

There came a hoarse, guttural cry. A warm fluid began to trickle onto his forehead. Another hideous noise followed; one that resembled the cutting of vegetables. Inuyasha slowly opened his eyes only to see a steel blade pointing at him, millimetres from his face. Its oriental design was smeared with blood. He felt a blunt object prod him.

"Get up, Inuyasha. You're not dead yet," a cool, collected voice said.

He looked up. The man's face was limp, his eyes wide with shock. His dilated pupils stared in amazement at the metal object that now protruded his torso; there was no way he could have anticipated another enemy presence. Inuyasha scrambled out from beneath. He was horrified; horrified at the dead man, uncertain of whom it was that saved his life.

He looked in the direction of the sword's blade. A gallant figure stood at the end, holding its handle, his distinct tattoos instantly recognizable.

"What are you doing here?" Inuyasha gasped, his breathing still heavy. The shock of facing death was yet to subside.

"I did say I would help the troubled lass, did not I?" Sesshoumaru replied casually. He tossed Inuyasha a sheathed dagger. "Cut her loose; we're leaving." He gestured towards Sango.

'_Oh yes…Sango!'_ He had almost forgotten. In what felt would be his final moments, his thoughts had strayed from his dearest friend; he had only thought of himself. He felt wretched. He looked towards the body that now law sprawled across the bed, passed out. No doubt the release of the tension that suddenly built up took everything out of her; she was exhausted. He gently lifted her head, cutting through the leather collar that had been wrapped around her neck. _'Bastards…'_ Inuyasha thought, tossing away the profligate cuff. He wrapped her limp arm around his neck before lifting up her unconscious form. "Come on, let's get you out of here…" He looked to his brother and nodded. The man nodded in response.

Inuyasha followed his brother towards the foyer. The yakuza that had been in the midst of a heart-pounding round of poker had now been herded into a corner and they stared grouchily at the trio. He looked around and saw a young woman…no, a girl. She could not have been older than eighteen. Her dainty hands wielded a submachine-gun, pointing towards the cowering group. Her white blouse provided the only contrast against the black leather and indigo denim that she wore. She spat her cigarette onto the floor, snuffing it with her shoe.

"Got the girl?" she asked.

Inuyasha nodded.

"Then scat," she ordered.

He looked to his older brother. "She's one of yours…right?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Yes. Now go. I have business to attend to." Sesshoumaru ordered. He did not feign any mood now; he was dead serious. He glanced at the eyes that now stared at the rival yakuza and felt a chill run down his spine. He had never seen such a look before; he could feel the murderous intent.

"Thanks, Sesshoumaru," he sputtered before hurrying out of the room, almost happy to leave the pair behind.

He slowly climbed the stairs. The adrenalin was finally beginning to wear off but his legs still felt shaky. He looked down. Her face seemed a little more peaceful now, though he could tell something still troubled her. Oh well, he would worry about that later; maybe after she had recovered and had something decent to eat. He couldn't help but crack a smile, however. As children, they had frequently role-played adult rituals, and despite her tomboyish personality, marriage was amongst the many they played. Inuyasha, naturally detested his role as the bridegroom and was adamant about not kissing. Sango however, being the wilful girl that she was, blatantly ignored his mandate and kissed him anyway, resulting in a photo that she would frame and treasure. Her curiosity to experience every aspect meant she had also asked to be carried in a bridal manner but the boy had been too feeble at the time; he could not carry her even if he wanted to. Not that he wanted to.

"You happy now, Sango?" he murmured. Her childish desire had finally come true, albeit in most adverse conditions, and she was not even awake to experience it. He could hear the sound of rain still pelting the ground. He wrapped her in his trench coat. Then, unlocking the car from his remote, he made a dash into the open quickly setting her lifeless body into the passenger side before rounding about the vehicle and diving into the driver's seat. His clothes were damp and it wetted the leather to his chagrin. He pressed a red button. The engine roared into life. Even now, he could not get over the sound. He gave a small grin; the car gave him confidence.

"We're going home, Sango."

* * *

Sango awoke to find herself on a smooth, leather surface. The heavy, dark curtains had been drawn wide open; she had a clear view of the city that sprawled beneath. Warm lights glowed softly, subdued by a dimmer; it was almost romantic. She forced herself up, her arms slightly shaky. _'How could I have become so weak?'_ she pondered. She took another look around the familiar apartment. The room was so colour coordinated; everything revolved around a central theme. Stylish hues of brown mixed with beige and black tiles came together came together in an aesthetically, pleasing way, the room's modern furniture and accents providing a certain flair to Inuyasha's pad. She couldn't help but feel a little envious, that she too could not live the high life like the other 'rich kids'.

She looked down and realised she was fully clothed again, not sheathed in the translucent piece of fabric. The T-shirt that she wore read _Seaworld_ on the front and bore a graphic of its famous dolphin logo. Silk boxers that felt a little too loose completed her attire. _'At least it's better than that crap I was wearing before…'_ She felt slightly embarrassed that her childhood friend no doubt saw her naked form but she also could not help but feel slightly impressed. In an attempt to protect her modesty, not that she had much, he had tried to clothe her, though he had not dared to try and don any underwear for her. She would have slapped him hard had he tried to do something as _audacious_ as that.

She weakly stumbled across the room and pressed her hand against the cool glass. _'Somewhere out there, in that maze of streets, is Kohaku…'_ She had to find him. She couldn't afford to waste time hiding around in a safety. Now that she'd escaped, Naraku would waste no time to quickly strike her nerve – and that very nerve was Kohaku. If she could not get him out before he found out what had happened…

"Yo, Sango, how are you feeling?"

She turned halfway. "Like crap."

He smirked. This was the Sango that he knew; the one who refused to reveal any weakness. The emotional display she had revealed earlier had come from the maelstrom she had felt; shock of her father's death, shame for her current state, relief that _he_ had arrived. Any tension that she had felt earlier had been released; she was fresh again. She wouldn't cry in front of him again…at least, not for awhile yet.

"Good, should stop you from doing something stupid."

"Speak for yourself. I need to find Kohaku, fast."

"Yeah well, you can do that after you rest first. Judging from the way you look, you'd do more harm than good by trying to find your brother now."

She stared daggers at him. "You think that would stop me? He's my brother, for God's sakes!"

She tried to push past him. "Woah, no you don't!" Inuyasha said patronisingly. He grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her onto the sofa. "You're gonna stay here, tonight. You will eat something and you will rest. You will recover before you decide to go out again." He kept his hands on her shoulders, pinning her down. She struggled but failed to break free of his grip. "See?" he taunted. "You're probably weaker than Kohaku at this moment. You do realise they drugged you, right?"

She stopped. _'Drugs? Those bastards…shoved drugs down my throat?'_

"Yeah, that's right," he nodded, watching her as she realised why she was so feeble. "Now you know why I can't let you go. I had Kikyou come and check you out by the way since you know, she studied med or whatever…" he petered out, releasing his hands. She sat up.

"What'd you just say?"

"I said she said you'd be alright so long as you rest. The small dose you took won't have any crippling effect."

"No, you muttered something afterwards."

"Keh! I just said that the jealous wench thought you and I were intimate now…" he looked away, blushing.

"Why would she think that?" Kikyou was known to be a very perceptive woman but her usual cold demeanour also led many to mistakenly believe her to be emotionless. Surely even _her_ judgement was prone to misinterpretation when it came to a former lover?

"You'll hate me if I tell you why."

"Come on! Don't be like that! Tell me!"

"Okay…well, I couldn't bring myself to change what you were wearing…so she kinda inspected you in while you were wearing that…lingerie…"

Sango felt her cheeks heat up. "Then she was the one who…" she looked down at the clothes she now wore.

Inuyasha nodded.

There was an awkward pause. Then Sango found herself laughing. "Oh my God, I thought it was you who dressed me!" she punched him playfully on the arm. Inuyasha grinned uncomfortably. After a moment's pause, she spoke again. "Ok, I'll stay over…but just one night." Inuyasha was right; the stress she had felt had left her completely drained. The severe toll it had taken on her body left her in no condition to search for Kohaku, let alone fight. They were orphans now; she could not afford to give in to passion only to lose him. The smile fell off her face and she found herself embracing her childhood friend, clinging onto him desperately like a life buoy.

"Wha-?" he stuttered, surprised at her outburst.

"Promise me that we'll find Kohaku," she whispered into his ear, her voice quavering.

There was a moment's pause. "I promise." His affirmative voice was all that she needed to hear.

She breathed in his warm, comforting scent. It felt so familial, so safe; a scent she had known since she was a child. She decided that she would let her defences down one last time. "Will you hold me like this, for just this one night?" she whispered. She felt his hand stroke her hair and his slow, his deep breaths gently rocked her. She felt her eyelids grow heavy. Soon, she was asleep.

* * *

A/N: Apologies for a shorter chapter and an upcoming hiatus…writer's block =(


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